Tuesday, December 24, 2002

self-fulfulling prophecy

i seem
of becoming
anything other than
the jaded bitch
i've always
claimed to be.

Tuesday, December 17, 2002

you know it's over when

coming to the park,
searching vainly for the graffiti
that held your names, promising forever
only, you can't find it -
it's covered by more years of love, loss, and
cock jokes
you no longer remember the precise spot he carved it;
the blade is a distant memory,
the split a recent one.
you only want the evidence
to remain, you want everyone
to remember:
once, you were deliriously
happy together

Friday, December 13, 2002

is this it?

close my eyes...
my whole body shakes
dried blood morning,
broad daylight dried blood
on my arm. i didn't
bother washing it off.
my whole body
shakes i can feel it
close my eyes lie down
i can feel it, like drug
withdrawal, can't stop trembling.
as i'm curled here
on the couch thinking,
how sad would it be
for him to find me
here on his couch in
broad daylight,
i didn't take the pills with
food, i took too many.
give me an hour
i'll be...fine.

Tuesday, December 10, 2002

i'm okay, then.

"are you okay?" she asks me.
"define okay," i say.

what does it say about me,
that i live through being
close to death?
that sickness, pale flesh
is welcome?
death is becoming an
answer to the problem
that is posed by you?
go on, tell me what a SICK FUCK
i've become.

Wednesday, December 4, 2002

i don't do drugs, i just abuse myself

you know what started
the entire problem -
you never accepted me
as myself.
you painted portraits of me,
and made yourself believe
i was not the strung-out creature
you saw...
you refused to see me
as i was, scars and all
you pasted cover-up over
my wounds,
and fed me, built me up,
knowing all along
i was sure to fail.
when she pried me away
from you,
you just stood there, watching.
you knew all along;
i knew all along
i could never be your perfect girl.